Urgal Instrumental
by NotRobot
Summary: "...the Urgal's eccentric collection of instruments…" –Brisingr, Page 97. One shot. Should not be taken very seriously.


" _ **...the Urgal's eccentric collection of instruments…" -Brisingr, Page 97**_

 **This is not meant to be taken that seriously.**

 **Disclaimer: The Inheritance Cycle, terrible as it is (I don't know why I still continue to like it), does not belong to me. The thousand-page collection of bad writing (which I never noticed until it was pointed out to me, making me feel very stupid) belongs to the** _ **oh so great**_ **Christopher Paolini.**

 **I also do not own any songs referenced in this one shot.**

* * *

When Nasuada had allowed the urgals to be allies of the Varden, she had been expecting many things. She expected protests against the urgals joining, the people calling them cruel, heartless, foul creatures that laugh at the death of a child. She anticipated accusations of her being a traitor to the Varden, for the urgals had been fighting under Galbatorix's command.

What Nasuada didn't expect were complaints about _music_ of all things.

* * *

It was a tense evening, and it was not just the fault of the urgals roaming around the Varden's camp. The empire's army was stationed nearby in the areas _close to The Burning Plains and not in them_ , because having a huge battle in a land full of fire and noxious fumes would be ridiculous and impractical.

Nasuada was on her way to her tent after a long and tiring meeting in which plans for the upcoming battle were discussed. She heard many things as she walked across the camp. The nervous ramblings of soldiers, the whispered allegations against Nasuada, and complaints about "that blasted music". Wait, music?

Now that she had listened more carefully, she did indeed hear music. It was a lively and spirited tune that seemed like it was coming from the far edge of the Varden's camp. The sounds emanating from the distance were sounds Nasuada had never heard before, but that didn't make it any less musical.

Curious, the leader of the Varden decided to investigate, turning away from the direction of her portable shelter and instead headed northward to where the sprightly music drifted from. Minutes later, Nasuada's face wore a surprised expression, to say the least.

A few metres across from her was Nar Garzhvog, standing on a wooden, slightly crude podium and waving a baton in the air. In front of the urgal warchief were row after row of urgals seated on rocks or logs, all carrying an eccentric collection of what appeared to be musical instruments. In front of each urgal was an inclined and wooden pedestal-looking object that held sheets of paper. The only instruments that Nasuada recognized were drums that resembled the ones from her tribe. People were crowded around the urgals, baffled and speechless, including a certain dragon rider and his dragon.

"What is the meaning of this?" Nasuada said, but no one heard her above the loud music that the urgals were playing. The people of the Varden didn't even notice that their leader was present in their bewildered state. Nasuada attempted to get the urgals' attention for several more minutes, but to no avail.

When the music finally ended, Garzhvog turned around and bowed, and his fellow urgals stood up and did the same shortly after. There was then what felt like a long moment of silence. During this period, Nasuada steeled herself and prepared to speak, but just as she opened her mouth, she was interrupted by a sudden round of clapping from someone in the crowd. More people decided to join in. The applause spread through the ranks of the urgal's audience like a disease, which had increased dramatically in the last few minutes. Even Eragon was applauding, and he had resented the urgals only a few hours ago!

It was only when the applause died out did Garzhvog finally notice Nasuada, and he bellowed at her. Almost everyone in the crowd panicked momentarily at the sudden shout (because who wouldn't panic at a tall and intimidating creature roaring at someone almost ferally?), until Eragon reminded them that urgals bellowed at their war chiefs in greeting.

"Ah, Lady Nightstalker. You have just seen one of our training routines in which we prepare for battle. We call the instrumental that we just played " _Spine Ridge Reel"_ , a classic in urgralgra culture. Not very many humans have witnessed this!" the ram said, and the urgals in the back nodded in agreement.

"You're training for battle?!" every human (and dwarf and elf and dragon) in the vicinity shouted simultaneously. The perplexed expression that each person had worn before grew to become even more perplexed.

"Yes. I am surprised at how little the other races know about us. Even the elves don't pay attention to our training exercises!" the kull explained.

"Wait, how come you fought with weapons and not instruments in the past, like at Farthen Dûr?" Eragon questioned skeptically. "How do musical instruments even kill in the first place?"

"The tyrannical king and shade ordered us to not fight with musical instruments, saying something about it looking 'stupid' and 'idiotic'- a cardinal sin among urgralgra. Another one of the reasons we wished to join the Varden. And as for the killing with instruments…"

"Tubas!" Nar Garzhvog called. The urgals playing the supposed "tubas", which every non-urgal in the area had never heard of before, blowed into the strange and golden musical apparatus, causing a deep sound to resonate across the surrounding area.

Suddenly, numerous flocks of birds fell to the ground where the crowd was standing, dead. "And that is how we customarily defeat our opponents," Garzhvog said, pride evident in his stance and tone.

"That makes no sense," Eragon remarked, and everyone that wasn't an urgal nodded in concurrence.

The people of the Varden then slowly started to leave the surrounding area, going back to their tents and their worries of the upcoming battle. A few brave and curious ones confronted the urgals to learn more.

Curiosity (slightly) satisfied, Nasuada left the band of urgals. Though her question was answered, a thousand more took its place.

* * *

The forces of the Varden and the Broddring Empire clashed (at the areas _near_ the Burning Plains and not in them, because that would be _ridiculous_ ), creating the beginnings of a battle that would be told again and again for generations to come. However, the reason for that was not what the people of the present thought it would be.

What the battle should've been was blood and death, but it was delayed as soldiers from both sides stared incredulously at the urgals. Nar Garzhvog was at the front of a large formation of marching urgals, all carrying various musical instruments (with the exception of the urgal war chief, who held a baton just like at their "training routine"). A king's parade was what the soldiers visualized when they heard the song, which was very ironic.

The empire's engrossment soon proved to be foolish. The first casualty of the battle occurred when the urgals' song rose in pitch, and a nearby enemy soldier abruptly kneeled over, dead. Just like that, he had fallen, with no wounds, no blood, nothing. Anyone looking at the soldier's lifeless body from afar would've thought that he had fallen asleep, perhaps through magic, or even stupidity.

Panic ensued in the empire's army. They rushed at the urgals, as they were clearly the biggest threat at the moment, even more threatening than Eragon. Their assault failed miserably, as the soldiers kept (somehow) dropping like flies.

Meanwhile, the rest of the Varden stood back, unsure of what to think. The battle that they fretted over for days turned out to be laughably easy. All of the work was being done by the urgals simply through playing a song. The melee soldiers fell quickly. The ranged ones, particularly the enemy spellcasters, took a little longer to fall, but they eventually died before they could even accomplish anything significant.

The urgals continued to play. The empire continued to die. The Varden continued to do nothing. The dwarves arrived. They joined the Varden in doing nothing, disbelieving at the urgal's unrealistic power. Eragon and Nasuada thought that they saw the dead bodies of the Twins among the slain enemy spellcasters, but disregarded it as hallucinations. A ship arrived carrying Roran and the other villagers from Carvahall. They greeted the Varden (especially Eragon, because he's _oh so uber special_ ), and then joined them in doing nothing.

The urgralgra had started playing a new song: " _In the Hall of the Broddring King"_ , as Garzhog had called it.

However, things weren't as easy when a certain dragon rider flew in, and Eragon and Saphira had let out an audible gasp. On the back of a red dragon was Murtagh.

"What magic is this?!" Murtagh yelled, baffled.

"You!" Eragon shouted.

Murtagh diverted his attention to Eragon. "Yes, me," he responded calmly.

Then the two riders clashed and argued about the past and present. A lot. Like a married couple- I mean- like two angry half-brothers. The Varden (and dwarves and villagers) simply stood by and watched the proceedings with interest, as Eragon and the urgals were doing all the work. They were rendered practically useless.

"How are the urgals so powerful and how have they not already conquered Alagaësia? Haven't they been here for thousands of years, just like the elves?" a random soldier of the Varden asked, amazement evident on his face.

The soldier next to him shrugged. "I dunno. Their society and decisions are weird."

At this point, the only soldiers of the empire left were Murtagh and a few hundred.

In the midst of the battle, Murtagh suddenly felt his muscles and joints stiffen unexplainably. The urgals' (who were currently playing " _Spine Ridge Reel"_ ) music had finally started to affect him (particularly those deadly clarinets and tambourines). He muttered something in the ancient language, but nothing happened. Another sentence. Another fail. A third time. Nothing.

Murtagh started to panic. He kept trying to ward off the strange effects of the urgals' music, but nothing was working. At one point, his mouth was entirely sealed shut. Eragon and Saphira took this opportunity, using all of their strength to knock the rider and dragon to the ground with a brutal blow.

The Varden finally did something. As per Eragon's orders, Murtagh and Thorn were easily tied up in their frozen state, and then forcefully dragged away by hundreds of men and dwarves (which was very unnecessary).

Now the entirety of the empire's army was dead. Every single soldier in the twenty thousand man army ( _not_ a one hundred thousand man army, because that'd be ridiculous) was dead. It was frankly amazing. Barely any fighting was done, yet an entire army was defeated in only an hour by a bunch of grotesque and muscular creatures playing songs with their eccentric collection of instruments.

* * *

The Varden, or rather, the urgals, then went on to kill Galbatorix in a very anticlimactic battle. Magic apparently had no effect on the urgralgra's music. The fact that the urgals didn't use their ridiculous power to conquer all of Alagaësia already was an anomaly.

The discrimination of the urgals was effectively erased as soon as news was spread around the continent. Wherever an urgal went, they would be praised endlessly. People started learning how to play music to honour them.

Celebrating with friends and family in the darkening streets of the capital, Eragon wondered why _he_ was the one chosen to restore Alagaësia, and surprisingly, Saphira agreed with him.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **I got the idea for this one shot when I was reading the Eragon Sporkings Wiki, a wiki that describes everything wrong with the Inheritance Cycle.**

 **The sentence "...the urgal's eccentric collection of instruments…" was called out for its unusual wording. Then the writer said that maybe the urgals were fighting with trumpets and tubas and other instruments. I found it so hilarious that I had to write about it.**

 **The songs referenced are:**

" _ **Spine Ridge Reel"**_ **is a reference to** " _ **Blue Ridge Reel"**_ **, by Brian Balmages. It also references the Spine, just like how Blue Ridge Reel references the Blue Ridge Mountains.**

 **The 21st paragraph references** " _ **The King's Parade"**_ **, by David Marlatt.**

" _ **In the Hall of the Broddring King"**_ **is a reference to** " _ **In the Hall of the Mountain King"**_ **, by Edvard Grieg (one of those songs that everybody knows but no one knows the name of).**

 **Hope you enjoyed, and have a great day!**

 _ **-Schmacklar**_


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